American Horror Story: Genesis
by imgoddamnpluckyremember
Summary: The road to hell is paved with good intentions...and the bodies of the damned souls you had to crush to get there in the first place.
1. Cast of Characters

**Cast of Characters**

Lily Rabe as Clarice Pembroke/Lucy Harris  
Finn Wittrock as Colin Carrigan/Jacob Preston  
Brennan Mejia as Damian Holt/Antonio Ramos  
Alexandra Breckenridge as Lilith/Rebecca Colton

Emma Roberts as Jade Stoddard  
Evan Peters as Travis Ford  
Taissa Farmiga as Kaylee Fletcher  
Michael Graziadei as Austin Morris

with

Frances Conroy as Dr. Simona Pembroke  
Kathy Bates as Dr. Marlene Carrigan  
Mare Winningham as Dr. Gwen Harvey  
Danny Huston as Dr. Oliver Andreas  
Ian McShane as Dr. Jonas Holt  
Denis O'Hare as Dr. William Kensington


	2. Episode 1: Overture

May

The gala was attended by only the most prominent of benefactors. The garden atrium had been bedecked in colors of champagne and pearl for the evening under the stars, visible through the great glass, domed ceiling. Professors from Ivy League universities mingled with the world's most renowned CEOs, doctors, lawyers, politicians. Anyone who had ever placed stock in Pembroke and Carrigan's vision was in attendance.

It was a formal occasion, but no matter how beautifully dressed the women in present company were, none could outshine Clarice Pembroke. She was a charming enough girl, but her smile, etched in daring red lipstick, was more luminescent than the face of the moon. Her eyes had a curious little twinkle of marvel and daring, but it was the dress that stunned. No one else had dared to wear such a bright shade of red, but she stood out with good reason. She was more than simply a decoration on the arm of Colin Carrigan, as the guests would soon find out.

Someone clinked a knife against a glass to call attention. Colin and Clarice stood on the landing of the grand staircase, mingling with a few partygoers, most of the rest down below. He stole the opportunity to place a humble and endearing little kiss on Clarice's cheek before he turned. "Everyone! May I have your attention please."

A hush fell over the crowd as they turned to look.

"Tonight is a marvelous occasion as we are all well-aware. First and foremost, I would like to toast to my mother, Marlene Carrigan, and her colleague, Dr. Simona Pembroke, brightest women of their field. We honor them and their hard efforts over the years as they strive to build us a foundation for a more sustainable future of safety and security."

There were murmurs of praise and glasses were raised, but Colin held up a hand, his smile winningly handsome. "Now, I don't want to diminish the importance of their work, but I would like to make an announcement with all of our beloved friends present, if I have my mother's permission."

Marlene, beaming, raised a glass from below.

"I wish not only to announce my campaign for Representative of Connecticut this fall, but also my engagement to my dearest and most beloved childhood friend, Miss Clarice Pembroke," he turned to her and kissed her hand as the applause erupted through the atrium. They stood a little closer to each other as flashbulbs went off left and right. The announcement made, the pair descended into the fray where they were eagerly met with congratulations.

"Ah, Professor!" Colin called the attention of an older man as they approached. "Professor Manning, I would like you to meet my fiancee. Clarice, this is Professor Manning—he teaches political science at Harvard."

"The infamous Clarice Pembroke. Your fiance speaks of almost nothing else," Professor Manning shook her hand. "And now I understand why. You are positively radiant, my dear, if I may be so bold."

Clarice gave a good natured laugh. "Oh Professor, you flatter me." She lowered her eyes and then looked up through dark lashes, blushing.

"Perhaps you'll save me a dance later. And Colin, if we don't speak again tonight, congratulations and good luck on your campaign as well. Here as always to be of any assistance."

"Thank you, sir." Colin shook his hand and the Professor disbanded.

"I suppose now would be a good time to find our mothers and extend our congratulations," Clarice suggested.

They turned, Colin searching the crowds for Simona and Marlene, but Clarice's eyes were drawn to the far end of the atrium where Dr. Oliver Andreas stumbled drunkenly through the masses. "Excuse me for a moment." She disentangled herself and pushed through the crowd, excusing herself as she hurried her way over to him, further away from where they'd made their announcement only moments before.

Clarice took his arm, hoping to steady him, but instead he collapsed and brought her down with him. "Dr. Andreas, is everything alright?" His head finally turned to reveal the ballpoint pen protruding from his neck, blood pooling down into the collar of his tuxedo as he gasped for a breath.

"Mother? MOTHER!" Her scream rang out, drawing the mass to a silent standstill. "Please, please you have to hold on. We're going to get you help," she insisted, tears puddling in her eyes. Simona and Colin appeared beside her, Marlene just moments behind. Dr. Andreas gripped her shoulder, his face turning purple.

"It was…a mis…take," he choked before convulsing and falling still, his open eyes staring right at Clarice.

"Go, take security with you," Simona murmured to her colleague. "I'll be along in a moment." Her phone was out immediately, summoning an ambulance. "Yes, I need an ambulance to the Ludovico Institute. I'm afraid there's been a terrible accident."

"Dr. Andreas?" Clarice was on her knees, cradling his head. "Help is coming, sir…"

A riot could not have gone any worse. The gala was chaos, people flinging their way up the stairs behind her while Clarice sat there in a dark puddle of blood, trying to revive him. She didn't know where Colin had gone, nor Marlene. She had some vague impression that her mother was behind her, but in the midst of everything, there sat Clarice, holding Dr. Andreas' head without truly seeing the blood that was starting to soak through the white of his tuxedo shirt. "Help is coming," she repeated.

The ambulance finally arrived, most of the guests had fled by then, but at last Simona was able to drag Clarice away as they zipped the doctor into a body bag. An officer kindly wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but she stood there in a daze, unaware and refusing to acknowledge that there was blood on her hands.

* * *

The school bell chimed and from the doors came a flock of elementary schoolers. One among them charged out from the group and into Travis' arms. "Guess what we learned about today!" the kid shouted.

"You can tell me all about it when we get home. Look here." He offered the little toy car to Teddy who seemed to assess it.

"You got this for me?" Teddy looked up into his brother's eyes. "It's mine? Like…to keep?"

"Yeah! Of course it's yours, now get your helmet on, okay?" He passed him the motorcycle helmet next as Travis strapped his own on. Teddy carefully tucked the car into his backpack and scrambled up on the back of the motorcycle. It roared to life beneath them and away they went.

Besides the car, he'd also gotten a loaf of bread and peanut butter, but he dared not take any more than that. Peanut butter sandwiches for another week would keep the school unconcerned and no one would come asking hard questions.

Outside the project, he let the bike come to a shuddering halt before he pulled the keys and helped Teddy get off. They made their way up to the second floor and into the small, dingy apartment. It wasn't much, but it was home enough.

Travis slung the back pack on his back onto the table and unzipped it, pulling the contents out and sticking them in the cupboards. He opened the fridge to find most importantly that the light was out.

"Travis? The TV won't turn on, can you fix it?"

In a perfect world, he could have. In a perfect world, they'd have more than peanut butter sandwiches for dinner. In a perfect world, they would've grown up in a nice house miles away from this dump where it seemed dealers lurked in the darkest of corners waiting for an opportunity. In a perfect world, their father would not be dead and their mother would not be gone, and Teddy would have more than a matchbox car to entertain him. Travis could've gotten him to school in a car rather than on a dumpy, fifth-hand moped that eventually they wouldn't be able to ride at all.

Most of all, in a perfect world, he wouldn't have to steal to make ends meet.

"Sorry pal. Not today."

Teddy paused but smiled up at him again. "That's okay. We don't need no stinkin' TV!" Teddy yelled.

"Yeah! We don't need no stinkin' TV!" Travis echoed, glad that at age nine, Teddy was more of an optimist than he could ever hope to be. "You got any homework?"

"Science. You won't believe what we learned about today. The science fair is coming up too, but I need you to sign the permission slip as dad again or else I can't compete."

"Sure," Travis said, turning away from Teddy to wash a few dishes. The school still didn't know their father had died three months ago. Travis was seventeen and if social services found out, they'd split he and Teddy up. Their whole life was a fabricated lie. He didn't like asking Teddy to go along with it, but it far outweighed the consequences. They just had to hold out until November when Travis turned eighteen. Then they could tell the truth and he could become Teddy's legal guardian.

Teddy chattered on about the solar system as he pulled the homework out of his bag. He was entire lifetimes smarter than Travis had ever been. It was more a sense of pride than one of jealousy. He was glad; Teddy would have opportunities in life that Travis could only dream of. Maybe one day he'd go to college. They could make it work somehow.

In school, Travis had been bad at everything. Reading was a constant source of frustration when letters kept flipping their places in the words, he was bad at spelling too. Math was nearly impossible and he'd come to accept he'd just be one of those people who wasn't good at anything. Not academically anyway.

He'd been fired again the day before, this time for the temper he couldn't control in front of a customer. He knew better, and still Travis couldn't seem to keep a lid on things. His past jobs looked much the same; late for work a time too many (either because he had to drop Teddy off at school or pick him up), called in too many times (if Marta next door couldn't watch Teddy for the night), had a temper toward a customer. He couldn't win and he was barely making bills. Now the power was shut off.

Tomorrow he'd hit the pavement and find a better job. Today he'd gotten the house clean, for the most part, and paid the rent that was overdue. Small victories he would take for the meantime.

Together, they sat at the table, working on Teddy's homework while Travis did his best to absorb the material too. He'd dropped out of high school the minute his father died, but part of him hoped that he could learn something through his brother. That somehow he could become smart enough so he could get a job in construction or something.

A knock came at the door and for a split second Travis stopped breathing. He left Teddy at the table to memorize the order of the planets in the solar system and went to look through the peep hole.

"Open up, Ford. I know you're in there. I can see your bike in the street from here, you fucker. You can't pull one over on me."

Marta. Thank god. Travis breathed a sigh and slid the chain lock open to let her inside.

"Why's it so dark in here? Ain't you paid the electricity?"

Travis closed the door and locked it again, scratching the back of his neck. "I couldn't. Barely made the rent."

"Don't forget you owe me too, shithead."

"I know. I'll pay you back, I promise. I just gotta find another job first."

"You got fired again, didn't you!" Marta backed him into a corner. "How many times I gotta tell you to keep a lid on that mouth of yours!"

Marta was the closest thing Travis had to a mother in a long time. She smacked him in the shoulder a few times to drive the point home while he resisted the assault.

"I know ma'am. I know. I'm trying." His words were soft and genuine. She let up on him then.

"You gettin' enough to eat? You look skinny, mijo. Where's your brother?"

Marta went to the kitchen where Teddy sat. "Miss Marta, guess what I learned today!"

"I'll bring you some leftovers, you both look too skinny," Marta looked back at Travis, an arm wrapped around Teddy's shoulders.

Travis' eyes fell to the floor. "Thank you, ma'am. You been real good to us. I promise one day I'll make it up to you."

"Yeah, you better," Marta gave a soft-hearted grin and turned to Teddy. "Okay sugar, tell me what you learned today."

Travis watched them feeling a weight of loneliness mixed with anxiety building up in his chest. He didn't know how he'd make it work, but he swore to himself that he would. If not to improve his life, then to improve Teddy's. For now, things would be tight to maneuver, but he had to try. He couldn't risk failing Teddy and letting his father down.

Someday…

* * *

2003

He might as well have owned the school.

Charming smile, good looks, and possibly even a bit full of himself, Jacob Preston and his friends were arguably dominant among the student body of Notre Dame High School. Despite being 16 years of age, he managed to appoint himself the leader of his little circle of friends (a troupe that consisted of two seniors, himself and three other juniors, a sophomore, and a freshman to do their bidding). He had no respect for authority—after all, he was above the law.

He was also prone to boredom.

Boredom in Jacob's world was hardly the same as anyone else's. Most find books to read, or settle on another activity, but not him. To sate his boredom, he liked to pick a target.

One fateful day, that target happened to be Derrick Winslow, who was (in all probability), gay.

School had been over for an hour or two, and he skipped out of lacrosse practice. They smoked a joint behind the gymnasium for a while, but Jacob wasn't satisfied. It wasn't until he'd wandered around the campus with his crew in tow for a while that he noticed Winslow coming out of the library with a stack of books tucked beneath his chin. With a target acquired, Jacob moved in and wrenched the stack of books from Derrick's arms.

"Hey, faggot. You're the clumsiest little girl I've ever seen," Jacob sneered as Derrick got down on hands and knees to re-stack his books. "Need some help?"

He kicked the boy directly in the cheek and sent him toppling onto his back, Derrick's books sliding everywhere once again. The others laughed and two of them joined in, but Jacob was on a mission.

"DUDE! Stop!" one of the other boys screamed pushing Jacob out of the way.

Derrick was completely unrecognizable. His face collapsed inward, marred by blood, his wrecked teeth now visible. One side of his chest was sunken in.

Dead, of course.

A teacher walking out of the building spotted them and while the others ran, Jacob was frozen in place, admiring his handiwork with a malicious grin.

At the police station, no amount of arguing on his father's part could get Jacob out of this mess. He would stand trial and likely be shipped off to prison, rather than juvenile detention. He smiled through most of it until his father struck him.

"Damn it, Jacob! Do you realize how serious this is? You killed a boy. You are a murderer. It's not a goddamn joke for you to laugh at!"

But laugh he did, until he was taken to prison.

Fifty or so other inmates threatened him with rape, physical harm, and other forms of assault. By the time his trial came around, he was sufficiently rattled by lack of sleep and fears for his life.

"Your honor, with your consideration, there is a program through the Ludovico Institute that would help Mr. Preston control his undesirable behaviors. Insanity plea accepted, I would like to suggest he complete his treatment there in a facility that would be best equipped to fit Mr. Preston's needs," the Preston family lawyer offered.

Jacob would never know how, but it was allowed.

One of the doctors arrived at the prison to take him away. Handcuffed for safety, he was placed in the back seat of the car with a metal grate to separate the front and back seats and no way of escaping. The doctor refused to speak, no matter how hard Jacob tried to convince him to.

On the outskirts of town, they stopped in the back entrance of a large, brick manor for clearance before driving into an underground parking garage. There was an entire fleet waiting to greet them. Among the first was Dr. Marlene Carrigan, who smiled graciously and said "Welcome home."

It sent a chill down his spine.

He was issued different clothing—a white pair of scrubs—and the rest of his belongings were immediately confiscated. Outraged, he tried to rebel, but he was immediately sedated and taken off to a cell to await the beginnings of his treatment.

This was not a place for his childish games, Jacob would soon realize.

* * *

PRESENT DAY

If it could be said, Dr. Oliver Andreas had been a rather popular man in his lifetime. At any rate, his funeral was well-attended, the masses dressed in traditional black. His wife, Illana, sat in the front, holding hands with a sister or perhaps a cousin. Family seemed to have popped out of the woodwork for this occasion, perhaps hoping to be in attendance for notoriety's sake.

In the second row, Clarice sat beside her mother, noticing Damian and Dr. Jonas Holt in the next pew and finally Colin and Marlene in the third. Among the rest were the other doctors from the institute.

The chapel was huge and old with high, vaulted ceilings that made Clarice anxious. Even the figures in the stained glass seemed to be watching. She hadn't noticed she was picking at the skin around her nails until Simona rested a hand on top of them like a call to attention. Clarice snapped from her daze and looked over at Colin, whom she hadn't had a chance to speak with since the night of the gala only a few days prior.

She breathed out and looked up to the open casket where Dr. Andreas lay. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, she thought, feeling her chest go tight. She still couldn't understand what happened, but every time she asked, her mother dodged the question.

When the service concluded, Simona hung around long enough to pay her respects to Illana while Clarice stood off to the side, scouring the masses for any sign of Colin. Instead, Damian Holt found his way over and offered a hug.

"Are you alright? You seem a little pale and out of it."

Clarice breathed out. "I suppose I am. I keep dreaming of his eyes. I was the last thing he saw and he looked so afraid…" she trailed off unsure of herself.

Damian squeezed her hand. "I can't imagine, Clarice. I'm so sorry. If you need anything from me, just say the word."

"I can't tell if Colin is avoiding me or if they're trying to keep us apart," Clarice craned her neck again, trying to find him in the crowd.

"Don't be silly. Marlene has no reason to keep you two apart. I'm sure everything is fine," Damian smiled at her.

"Thank you," Clarice sighed with relief. "Thank you, it helps to hear you say that. You're a wonderful friend."

They stood idly by for a while, watching as their parents flocked into a group with their other colleagues in discussion.

"Is the plan to go to your beach house in Old Saybrook the weekend after next? My father mentioned something about all of us going," Damian asked.

"Yes, I think so. My mother and Marlene want us to look at a few locations for the wedding. They're hoping to host the reception at the beach house I think. Coastal view and all."

"Sounds lovely. Is there a date yet?"

"I don't think we've settled. In the summer sometime, maybe. When the weather is nice. I think we need to book a venue first."

"He asked me to be his best man the night of the gala. Colin, I mean."

"Oh! Did you say yes? That's a wonderful idea."

"Of course," Damian smiled again. "Happy to help in any way I can. He wants me to help with the campaign too."

"Oh, you know him. He's so attached to both of us, it's a wonder he didn't ask you to marry him too." They exchanged modest laughter, trying not to be disruptive to anyone else, but Clarice's smile faded. The pallbearers had taken the casket and were removing it from its place at the altar as the organ played. Clarice's lips pursed for a half second before she looked at her feet clad in black heels.

"I should go find my father," Damian said at last. They hugged one final time. "Remember what I said. Anything you need, you just let me know, alright?"

Clarice forced a smile despite the creeping anxiety she could feel rising in her chest. Simona's hand rested on her shoulder. "Come along, darling. The car will be waiting any moment now."

The sky outside was ghastly white and overcast, giving the cemetery a film-quality aesthetic of gloom. Clarice still couldn't shake her anxious feelings and once or twice Simona had to ask if she needed to excuse herself. She sat on her hands and tried to concentrate.

"It was a mistake." His voice echoed.

Those in attendance were rising once again to place flowers on the casket. Clarice admired the red carnation in her hands and placed it at last on the black box. "We will miss you, Dr. Andreas," she whispered, the patrons around her dispersed to the sound of the funeral dirge played by the bagpiper.

The wind whispered through the trees and for a moment she thought she heard something.

"Clarice, we're going to be late," Simona commanded impatiently.

"Sorry, mother. I'm coming."

What had been a mistake, Clarice wondered. But most importantly, she wondered who had killed Dr. Andreas in the first place.

* * *

2006

"I have here the consent forms for you to sign. We all know he's much too old to adopt now, but this gives me power over attorney if anything happens to him. He'll be no trouble to you at all. Not anymore," Marlene slid the papers across the table. Both the Institute's lawyer and the Preston's were in attendance.

"You say he doesn't remember us at all?" Mrs. Preston asked.

"Vaguely I'm sure he does, but as a matter of importance, no. I don't believe so," Marlene touched her hand for a brief second as a simple sympathetic gesture.

"Has he improved at all?" Mrs. Preston asked again.

"Oh yes, very much so from the person you remember. Much less violent. Unfortunately, we can't know if this was sustainable or not. You can understand, surely, that to put him back into the world at this stage—or any, really—could pose a serious risk."

Mr. Preston picked up his pen and signed without anymore hesitation. "And you say he'll never come back to us again? I apologize if I sound uncouth, Dr. Carrigan, but I'm a businessman. It wouldn't do to have the word out that he was mine."

"George!" Mrs. Preston gasped.

"It's true! Do you have any idea how damning for my career that could be? Mr. Keating, please explain to my wife what bad press would mean for my career," Mr. Preston referred to his lawyer.

"Mr. and Mrs. Preston, I assure you your son will be taken care of. I have worked with him these past three years and will continue to do so, whatever the results of his treatment may yield. He's a very intelligent young man, very bright. You did your part bringing that child into this world, now let me do mine," Marlene kept her voice even and gentle.

With a defeated sigh, Mrs. Preston signed the paperwork. "May I see him one last time?" she asked, her eyes watering.

"Of course. I'll take you to him now."

They trooped through a maze of while corridors, long and endlessly confusing. "Not what you'd expect from the outside," Mr. Preston gave an uneasy laugh.

"I suppose not," Dr. Carrigan smiled to herself as they turned another corner and ascended a flight of stairs. "But then, sometimes what we see on the outside is not always true of what's on the inside."

The second level was much nicer with rich, hardwood floors, but the walls remained mostly blank. Marlene led them down one hall and then another to the right until they stood outside the music room. Marlene offered Mrs. Preston a prime spot in front of the door to see through the observation window where the sounds of Chopin played brightly on the piano.

"Can we go in?" she asked, reaching for the door handle before Marlene stopped her.

"Best not to disturb him. The surprise might be upsetting to him; I don't want him to lash out at you, Mrs. Preston."

With an aggrieved sigh, she nodded and allowed her husband to escort her back down the hall and eventually downstairs where their lawyer was waiting. Marlene stayed long enough to hear him flub a note, the instructor inside slammed the fallboard down on his fingers and back up with a clack. He gave a scream of pain and shock. "Again, Colin. And do not fuck it up this time. Sloppiness will cost you, do you want it to cost you, boy?"

"NO! No…no sir. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I'll do better. I can do better."

"Prove it."

His fingers stuck to the bloody keys—the fallboard had a length of razors embedded into its ledge and every time it slammed down, it sliced a little deeper into his skin. He would get it right or suffer the consequences. They were giving him an advanced lesson in perfectionism. He was catching on quick.

It had taken three years, but they were finally beginning to break every aspect of him down. They knew now what made him tick, knew how to ensure that they would achieve desirable results. And Colin, the perfect little manmade prodigy would not allow himself to fail them.

* * *

PRESENT DAY

He was just coming home from work for the night when he stopped off at the store on the corner to pick up a few things. It wasn't his usual place, but stealing from the same store too many times was too much of a risk and Travis wasn't willing to take it. He entered, looking the man at the counter in the eye with a smile. "Hey man, how's it going?" He knew people were more apt to trust if he made a good first impression.

The man bobbed his head once and smiled back at him before returning to the small television behind the counter as he checked his lottery numbers.

Travis headed back through the two aisles reserved for food and crouched low for a moment, grabbing a can of soup from the middle shelf and sticking it quickly in the pocket inside his leather jacket. He grabbed a can of spaghetti-o's for the other and stood back up. "You got any fruit snacks? My brother loves 'em," he asked, trying to be as convincing as possible.

"Nah man, fresh out. Keep it down for a sec, would ya? They're callin' numbers."

He picked off four candy bars and stuck those in his jacket pockets too before he rounded the corner for a loaf of bread. He hefted his backpack onto his shoulder a bit better and fished in his pants pocket for a crunched up dollar bill and some change. This he would pay for, just to strengthen his cover.

"Damn it! So close."

"Man, shame you didn't win. You'd share some with me, right?" Travis grinned.

"The witness to my victory? Of course, bro. Just this then?" he asked, ringing the items into a cash register that was long overdue for an upgrade.

"Just that, yeah," Travis nodded, feeling a bit sorry for having taken advantage of the man's kindness, but he couldn't let Teddy starve either.

"One thirty-five."

He set what money he had up on the counter, unsure of the sum that was there, and hoped it was enough as the cashier counted.

"You're five cents short, bud."

"Shit. Ah…" Travis made a deal of rummaging in his pockets. "You got a penny cup or somethin'? Rest of my change is at home."

A pair of officers walked in behind him and instantly Travis was acutely aware of his every movement and flaw. He felt his heart pounding in his throat as he watched them move to the cooler at the back of the store and pick out drinks.

"Sorry my brother, no can do. Last guy just used up what I had."

"Can I swing by with it later? My old lady's gonna kill me if I don't get home with this," he let out an airy, nervous laugh.

"Tell you what, you come back with the change, I'll let you take a second one for your trouble to keep your moms off your back."

It would've been a nice idea in theory, but he didn't have any change at home. The change on him now was what he'd scrounged up before he left. The officers came up behind him.

"Either of you got a nickel?" Travis gave another anxious laugh as he turned to them.

"Sorry, man. Nothin'."

"Hey, what's this?" one officer reached for a partially concealed candy bar sticking out of Travis' pocket. "Planning to pay for that, son?"

Travis stared anxiously at the candy bar for a moment, feeling the color drain from his face. The seconds felt like hours but he finally found the words. "Actually…" He grabbed the loaf of bread off the counter and booked it out the door toward the motorcycle down the street.

One of the cops lunged for him and sent him sprawling on the pavement with his wrists pinned behind his back. His chin was scraped on the concrete, the cans in his coat crushed to his chest, but he couldn't stop staring at that loaf of bread laying just a few feet from his face.

Travis Ford was about to be in a whole mess of trouble.

* * *

He was shoved into the interrogation room with such force that he tripped and caught himself on the table. One of the officers who had caught him pushed him down into a chair and threw his backpack on the table. The officer gruffly unzipped it and dumped its contents out on the table.

Granola bars, candy, crackers, chips, a few cans of soup, packages of ramen.

He averted his eyes.

"Bet you didn't know we responded to a couple calls for convenience store theft in the area. Care to explain what this is all for?"

Travis took a deep breath and let it out in one big huff. "My little brother is nine and he's starving. Ain't got any money."

One of the officers seemed to soften just a little. "Kid, where's your mom?"

"Gone, I dunno. She left a long time ago."

"Dad?"

Travis didn't answer. He looked down at his hands and thought back to that day they had buried their father. It rained, and the box went to a cemetery full of charity cases. A shelf, more or less, on the other side of the harbor, where people without families or money went. A priest said some words before they pushed the unfinished wooden box nailed shut with their father inside into the waiting hole. Teddy clung to Travis in tears while they stood under an umbrella that was broken on one side, wearing shabby clothes that would've been an embarrassment at anyone else's funeral. 'I won't let you down,' Travis thought painfully.

"Where's your dad?" the Officer repeated.

"He died. Three months ago. March." Travis whispered.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen, sir," he tried to be respectful.

"Seventeen. And your brother."

"Nine. Teddy's nine. He turns ten in a couple weeks."

They both seemed to calculate him for a moment. "You know there's programs for this kind of shit. Food stamps, I mean."

Travis looked confused.

"'Course it doesn't matter now. We pulled up your record. Been caught stealing twice before. This is your third strike, kid."

"What does that mean?" Travis asked, a flash of fear crossing his eyes as he leaned forward.

"You're going to court. Probably going to do at least thirty days. Three months at most."

"No! Please, you can't do that, my brother…"

"Guess you should've thought about that before you took all this, huh?" the more unforgiving Officer stared him down.

"Please, you can't. I'll do anything. Please don't take me to court," he was starting to panic. Marta was going to wonder where he was. Teddy was going to be taken away. Travis would go to jail. He'd never get a real job or pass a GED class, none of it.

"Sorry, kid," the kinder officer of the two stood up and helped him from the chair to take him down to a holding cell.

"Can I have my phone call? I need to call my friend, she's watching my brother and I don't want her to worry."

The Officer led him to the phones just outside of the holding area. He punched in Marta's number and waited.

"Hola," her deep Spanish accent came through the receiver as dense as fog.

"Marta? It's me."

"Where are you mijo? Your brother keeps asking."

Travis didn't say anything at first, choking up as his eyes filled. "I did something bad, Marta. I fucked up."

"Mijo…"

He sniffed and coughed once, trying to keep it together. "I really fucked it up, Marta. They're gonna put me in jail and they'll take Teddy." He could hear the TV on the other end of the phone, but he could sense Marta's contemplative silence.

"I'll be there soon. We will figure this out. I don't know how, but we will."

Travis let out a sigh and nodded to himself. "Okay. Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. I'll see you soon."

The Officer (whose name he now saw on his badge as Officer P. Rhodes), escorted him into a cell and closed and locked the door. "I'm sorry, kid," he said softly. "The odds aren't really in your favor on this one. If I could do something, I would."

Travis dropped his head into his hands, feeling like a failure. He'd let himself down, he'd let Teddy down, and now worst of all, he'd let his father down too.

* * *

He stood in the courtroom wearing the clothes he'd come to the precinct in. He had nothing better as it was, but he couldn't help but feel that it didn't look favorable that he wasn't cleaner and his clothes were a mess.

Somewhere behind him, Marta was sitting with Teddy. He'd seen them when he entered from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't even look at them. Unending shame consumed him. This wasn't the sort of lesson he wanted Teddy to learn. Travis wished Marta had left him at home. But here they all were.

The courtroom was surprisingly empty. Travis thought there would have been more people here than there were, but it was just him, his appointed lawyer, a prosecuting attorney, the judge, a bailiff, and another man who sat behind him. Travis couldn't figure out what the last member of their little party was doing at this hearing-he looked more important than anyone else, he looked like the kind of man who had better things to do than watch a kid be sent away.

But he stayed there, unflinching, and gave Travis a smile when he looked back.

"I have examined the evidence for this case and I do not believe it requires an official trial. The defendant has been given fair warning in the past that this kind of behavior is out of line. He has failed to use any state-appointed resources to help himself, but more importantly, the minor he saw fit to take care of himself. This is reckless endangerment of a child." The judge shuffled a few papers.

"It is my understanding that Mr. Ford will not be eighteen until November the twenty-second. He is no example to his brother. I declare that the child, Theodore Michael Ford, be placed in foster care. Under the given circumstances, Mr. Ford, I am remanding you to three months in jail."

"Your honor, if I may," the prosecutor stood and straightened his tie. "I would like to present an alternative that would offer Mr. Ford the chance to create a better life for himself."

"Continue," the Judge sat forward, his brow furrowed.

"The Ludovico Institute is represented here in court today by Dr. William Kensington. He would like to offer Mr. Ford a place at the institute where his undesirable behavior will be corrected through treatments and therapy."

"Mr. Lund, the boy is not guilty by reason of insanity-"

"Your honor," the man stood from his pew. "The Institute specializes in reforming young adults from petty thieves to some of the most violent criminals. Damian Holt, for instance, was once an accessory to a gang-related murder." Dr. Kensington came forth with a folder that he offered the judge. "Mr. Holt is now a Yale graduate student working on a degree in law. He is one of the brightest young men I have ever met, and he was treated at our very own institution."

The Judge examined the file and skimmed the reports. "And you believe you can prevent Mr. Ford from becoming a repeat offender?"

"Yes, your honor. I whole-heartedly do."

The Judge deliberated in his head for a moment before he flipped the file closed and handed it back to Dr. Kensington. "Very well. Defendant is remanded to the Ludovico Institute for treatment until such a time as acting authorities believe he no longer poses a threat." He smacked the gavel. "Adjourned."

Teddy, completely dumbfounded, stood in a fog for a moment until he heard Teddy shouting.

"They can't take Travis away, where am I gonna go?!"

A social worker Travis hadn't seen before knelt to Teddy's level and tried to calm him down with Marta's help, but it was of no use. They tugged him out of the courtroom, the whole time he wrestled, screaming his brother's name.

His heart shattered into a million pieces. He collapsed back into the chair, covering his face with his hands as the cuffed him once again, and he wept.

It seemed like days passed before Dr. Kensington came toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Mr. Ford?"

Travis looked up. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad…how could I fuck up this bad?" He became a wreck all over again.

"I promise, son. Before you know it, this will all be a distant memory."

When Travis could finally stand, he left the courthouse with Dr. Kensington to a waiting car. A metal grate separated the back and front seats. Kensington took the passenger side after placing Travis in the back.

"What's the grate for?" Travis asked, examining it.

"Safety precaution. We occasionally deal with some very violent cases. The grate is there for my security and yours. Though I trust you're not the physically violent variety."

The car started away and Travis peered out the window as they passed another car with his brother inside. One day, he promised himself. One day they would be together again. Whatever this institute entailed, he would cooperate entirely. The better he was, the sooner he would be able to get Teddy back.


	3. Episode 2: A Social Experiment

The beach house in Old Saybrook was not the sort of beach house most associated with the idea of weekend getaways. It was a short walk from a light house, but the Pembroke's place was the largest in the area. There was a smattering of smaller houses, but then, most things looked small compared to the three story mansion with cobbled siding. Jay Gatsby's house might have paled in comparison.

In the off season, the house was maintained by a staff of two or three depending on the time of year. Simona liked to walk into it with the faint scent of pine and wood polish still lingering in the air and not a spec of dust anywhere. All of Clarice's best memories were in this beach house.

Their butler carried the luggage into the house and distributed it to the waiting service staff who would be present for the extended weekend getaway. Clarice thanked them while Simona traipsed on by, entering the house as if she'd never left. As if its grandeur were nothing to her.

But Clarice felt a sense of discovery every time she entered. She was always incredulous of the twenty guest bedrooms it touted in two separate wings, of the ballroom overhead, and the grand library that took up the center of the second and third floors (a beautiful space with high windows that overlooked the beach and the lighthouse with lush decor, and big enough to acomodate a small, single family home). It had charm, to be certain, but Clarice was never really over its magnanimity.

She picked up a small duffel bag and followed one of the maids up one side of the grand double staircase to the east wing. One entire side of the hall was large, open windows that allowed a radiant natural light to open up the narrow space. At last the maid pushed into the last door at the end of the hall, standing aside for Clarice to enter.

The suite was high-ceilinged and fit for a renaissance queen. Sapphire blues, splashed with white-gold and the barest hint of pearl. A room befitting a princess.

Exhausted from the drive, Clarice crawled onto the bed and sprawled out, hugging one of the shammed pillows. She heard the horn of a familiar Maserati and roused herself to go look out the window. She stepped out onto the balcony as he was pulling the sunglasses off his face.

"Are you going to come down and kiss me hello, gorgeous, or do I have to come to you?" he shaded his eyes, grinning up at her.

She was gone in an instant and down the hall with what her mother would have called an unwomanly indecency. The front door swung open as she reached the halfway mark on the staircase; Colin's baggage following close behind. She flung herself into his arms and kissed him with no regard for present company.

"Hello to you too," he laughed as she pulled away again.

"Why didn't you sit with us during the funeral? I've missed you," she insisted.

"I would have, but my mother insisted you needed space or something after all that. Figures she'd be wrong. You know she's an intelligent woman, but sometimes I question where her logic stands."

"Clarice, was that you I heard thundering down the hall?" Simona appeared on the balcony that overlooked the foyer as Clarice turned to look up. "Dear, you exhaust me with how many times I've had to tell you not to."

"I'm afraid that's my fault, Dr. Pembroke. Won't let it happen again." Colin wrapped his arms around his fiancee, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Oh, Colin, dear. How lovely to see you again. I meant to say hello to your mother at the funeral but I guess we must've just missed each other," Simona made her graceful descent into the foyer. "I'm so glad you could join us. I expect the Holts will be along shortly too…where's your mother gotten off to?"

"We drove separately. She doesn't like the Maserati, and she didn't want to be rushed along. But in this beautiful weather, it'd be a shame not to have a little fun on the coast with the top down."

"Right, well. I'll be unpacking. Do come find me if I haven't made an appearance before her arrival." Simona disappeared again while the young lovers watched her go.

"I'm convinced your mother has a stick wedged permanently up her a—"

Clarice spun around and covered his mouth, suppressing her own giggles. "Don't you dare. Now come with me."

She led him through a sitting room, and into a dining room, through a swinging door to the kitchen and out through the back door. The terrace opened wide before them as she led him off down the steps to the beach. She slipped off her shoes, insisting he do the same, and the two of them walked toward the shoreline arm in arm in silence for a while.

"Are you alright?" Colin asked finally. "I mean, after everything… I'm so sorry. It was supposed to be such a happy night."

"It was," Clarice said firmly. "It was everything it was supposed to be."

"No it wasn't. You should have had the night to dance and people asking to see your engagement ring," he kissed her left hand for effect as if he were reminding her of its obvious existence. "Instead you heard the last words of a dying man… Are you really alright with that?"

She stared out on the horizon unsure of how to answer. "It was fine," she spoke softly as if she were convincing herself. Then after a pause, "Did your mother say what happened?"

"To Dr. Andreas? No. I don't think she really knows, either."

"Who would?"

"God, Clarice, don't be morbid," Colin recoiled.  
"I only want to know what happened. Aren't I allowed to be curious?"

"No! God no," he looked briefly disgusted, stopping their walk so he could jam his hands into his pockets and study the sand and the horizon. Anywhere but her face.

Clarice turned away, her voice still gentle. "Sorry I brought it up."

Colin gave a relenting sigh and squeezed her shoulders. "I just think you should be focusing on more important things. Like where we're going to have the wedding or which family members are most definitely not going to be sitting together at the reception." He wrapped his arms around her again and kissed her cheek. "Or what you're going to surprise me with under your wedding dress," he whispered.

Scandalized she turned, laughing and swatted him. "Don't be vulgar." Words she'd heard too many times from her own mother's mouth.

Colin chased her along the beach, the two of them laughing like children without a care in the world.

* * *

"Please state your full name, age, and date of birth."

"Travis Allen Ford, eighteen, November twenty-second, 1998." He tried to speak clearly as Dr. Kensington had advised.

"Could you please state for the record, Mr. Ford, any history of mental illness?"

"None, ma'am," he said.

"History of juvenile disobedience?"

"Theft. And some anger problems…I guess."

"And the highest level of schooling you've completed?"

"Grade 11 and part of grade 12."

From there, his keys and other material possessions he'd had on his person were confiscated, his clothing taken too, and he was searched before being passed along to the showers. The shower had no curtain and a guard was posted outside of it, but he didn't mind as much once the hot water hit his skin. For the first time in days he felt cleaner and more comfortable than he had since the day of his arrest.

In keeping with Dr. Kensington's advice, he didn't resist the white scrubs or the clean, lace-less shoes he'd been given. He didn't complain once through any of the intake, not even the urine test. Marta would've been proud, too.

Travis was then escorted into a room that was empty, save for two chairs and an old oriental rug. He admired the polished wood floors and the crown molding too. Whatever this institute was, it was the most upper-crust place he'd ever been.

Someone he had yet to meet walked into the room and he stood out of respect (the way his father told him a man should).

"Mr. Ford, I presume. I'm Dr. Harvey. I'm here to get to know you a bit before we begin. I promise I pass no judgement. I won't get stuck on your past—I'm much more invested in your future. But I want to hear what you have to say about yourself before our sessions begin."

"Where do I start?"

"Wherever you like, I suppose. Just as long as you're comfortable."

He sat back in the chair and looked at her for a minute before his eyes dropped to the floor. "I got this brother—Teddy—he's probably the coolest kid I ever met." Travis rubbed his neck. "He's pretty damn smart, too. Smarter than me, anyways. He's a good kid."

Dr. Harvey made notes on her pad while he talked. "Is Teddy your only family?"

"I guess. I mean, I got a mom too, but nobody's seen her since Teddy was a baby. I'm sure there's other relatives out there, but they don't want nothin' to do with me or him."

"Who takes care of you then?"

"I do. Sometimes our neighbor, Marta, she helps with Teddy when she can."

"And your father?" Gwen tried to avoid making assumptions.

"Died. Three months ago."

"I'm sorry for your loss. He didn't suffer, I hope?"

"Aneurism. He went real quick. But we didn't have money for a funeral and Marta had to make all the arrangements. He got the three-penny burial when he was worth so much more than that…" Travis looked out the window, feeling weighted by the emotions it brought back.

He woke up that cold morning in March to find his dad, gray-faced in bed as he and Teddy were getting ready for school. He forced the kid to stay down the hall while he shut the door and then he went immediately to Marta's, sobbing helplessly the whole time. Teddy was upset too, but more so because he had no idea what was going on. The rest of that day had been a blur of cops and Marta lying her ass off at Travis' request to keep them from separating the family.

"So you took care of your brother. That couldn't have been easy for a boy your age to do."

"It wasn't. Isn't. Wasn't. I dunno."

"What about school?"

"Stopped going. Told the office I was dropping out. They made me fill out papers and everything. Had to forge my dad's name a few times."

"And you don't miss it?" Gwen straightened.

"Me? Hell no. I'm a fuckin' mess at school. Can't read worth a damn. Had a math teacher tell me it was a goddamn miracle I could add and subtract."

"I see." Dr. Harvey made more notes in her notepad. "So you worked?"

"Lotsa places. Couldn't really hold down a job on account of the fact that I got a temper."

Dr. Harvey didn't look up, just made another note on her pad. "Do you mind me asking you a few questions?"

Keeping Kensington in mind yet again, he decided to be compliant. "No, not at all."

"Have you ever had any violent urges? For instance, have you ever been so angry you lashed out physically and hurt another person?"

"No. Nothing like that. I might've shoved a guy once but that's as far as it got."

"I see you were caught and arrested for theft? Same rule applies. I won't judge, but I would like to know the truth."

"We were starving. I couldn't even pay the bills."

"Did you know there were government programs for that?"

"What, like welfare? Wasn't willing to risk the state finding out my dad was dead and we were all alone." Travis sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the heels of his hands into his temples. "I just didn't want anybody to think I wasn't trying hard enough. I was. All the time."

Her eyes were sympathetic, but the rest of her seemed to refuse being touched at all by the sob story of a teenage delinquent.

"Can I ask you a question?" Travis asked, his tongue wetting his lips. "You think I'm hopeless?"

"You? You're the worst." She offered a joking smile and a chuckle.

He laughed.

"I don't think anyone is hopeless, Travis. I think you're a boy who had to grow up too fast." She reached out and gave him a pat on the knee, but there was no warmth to it. "No one is beyond help. Least of all you. We see so many cases here every year, but you're not the worst. Far from it. I have high hopes for you."

"You think I'll ever see my brother again?" Travis asked.

"I think it's important to focus on the moment at hand. It makes life much less stressful."

Travis nodded and the two of them were silent for a while. "So…what kind of treatment is it?" he dared.

"All in due time, dear boy. All in due time." She clicked her pen and stuck it in the pocket of her lab coat. "I'm going to have my assistant take you to your room now. I suspect you're tired of all the questions. Someone will bring lunch around for you in a while." Dr. Harvey stood up and went to fetch the assistant from the hall.

Dr. Holt, Dr. Kensington, and Dr. Carrigan waited for her down the hall, looking up like a pack of children as she came down the hall.

"Well?" Kensington asked.

Gwen took a folder from Dr. Holt and added the yellow legal pad. "I think putting him through this might cause more damage than good." She looked to her superior, Dr. Marlene Carrigan, and let out a sigh. "He's not particularly a bad child. He has a soft heart and a strong will. He is obedient if nothing else, eager to meet expectations."

"But he has no parents?" Dr. Holt asked.

"No. Orphaned for going on three months."

"So no one will miss him." Kensington added.

Gwen's brow furrowed but she bit her tongue. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was all somehow wrong. When she'd signed onto the position as their leading psychiatrist, she assumed they would be reforming dangerous criminals like Jacob Preston and Lucy Harris, but now… This seemed unnecessarily cruel. 'You can't do this to him,' Gwen thought. Marlene, if she could only hear her thoughts, would have told her that her heart belonged at home, not at work. "Yes, I suppose that's right," she answered stiffly. Gwen handed the folder back to Dr. Holt and made her way to the office.

"Please go to room one-oh-five and bring Mr. Ford to his cell. It shouldn't take much more than you. He's very cooperative." Gwen said as she walked past her assistant and intern, a pretty little blonde thing called Kristen McClaine The girl saw herself out as Gwen sat behind her desk rubbing her temples. Somehow, she had to spare the boy from too much harm. But she worried if he'd merely become a lab rat anyway. Someone to test other therapies on. They already harbored one dangerous secret and they didn't need another.

Travis walked beside his escort, a girl whom he otherwise would have considered pretty but he elected to keep silent about that. His room was buried deep underneath the Institute. It was a windowless, white, little cell just large enough to accommodate a bed stretching horizontally from wall to wall opposite the door. There was a toilet protruding from the wall, but not much else. The door itself, at first a pane of hollow plexiglass with a large metal rod through its middle, frosted over but for an observation slot as the escort pushed a button outside to close and seal it.

Travis sat on the edge of the bed and breathed out. Nothing to do now but sit and wait alone with his thoughts.

* * *

 _Creep_ by Radiohead played at a low volume, but the faint traces of it could be heard all the way at the top of the steps.

The hall had four doors; a master bedroom, a bathroom, one unmarked, and the other emblazoned with a silver star and the name "KAYLEE" stickered onto it. Various other impermanent decorations joined the star, but it was what was behind the closed door that mattered more.

The oaken canopy bed was one they'd slept in together as little girls, but it looked different now. The pink fairy princess bedding had somewhere graduated to something rich and purple. One wall was decorated with photos around a vanity; a computer desk opposite the bed and door to the room, and on the wall with the closet, a shelf of books, trophies, and ribbons.

The music played as Jade kissed her, the two of them breathing each other in. Kaylee was still wearing her uniform—something that Jade liked to see her in best.

Jade's fingers found their way to the button and zipper at the seam of Kaylee's skirt and she made short work of opening them up.

"Wait," Kaylee begged between stolen, breathless kisses. "Maybe we shouldn't."

"Are you scared, or something? I can go slower," Jade offered, sliding a hand up under Kaylee's shirt, kissing her neck.

"A little…" her eyelids fluttered. "I want to… I've never done this before, that's all."

Jade propped herself up on her elbow. "Don't you trust me?"

Kaylee took a pause to think it over, but finally nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I do." She tangled her fingers in her girlfriend's hair again, their closeness more desperate and impassioned.

Jade's hands read her body like braille, squeezing in all the right places to heighten her arousal. Her kisses moved from Kaylee's lips, to just behind her ear, down her neck and chest, to her exposed mid drift, until finally she was kissing her hip bones. Her kisses grew softer as she worked the skirt down her thighs, and then everything underneath it.

She smiled into each kiss, watching as Kaylee's head rolled on the pillows, her back arching with lust. Just a few kisses more…

The bedroom door slammed open.

Kaylee scrambled for her clothes, Jade backed off the bed and into the desk, and suddenly it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Kaylee's father was not, nor had he ever been, the easygoing type. A Catholic man, deeply attached to his religion, there was no possible way he was going to find anything forgivable or experimental about this little tryst. Instead, he stood there going redder and redder in the face. "What. The FUCK were you doing to my daughter?!"

"I…should go," Jade hesitated to breathe at first, but grabbed her things quickly and pushed out past him, tripping her way down the stairs to the front door, afraid of whether or not he was behind her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of turning back to see if he was or not. She hopped into her truck and made off as fast as she could, her eyes blurring over.

When she was far enough away, she pulled out her phone and called her best friend. It took ten minutes of him trying to talk her down before she spoke.

"I really fucked up Logan. Her dad caught us."

There was a pause on the other line and then she could hear him exhale. "Where are you? I'm on my way."

She had to hand it to him, he always knew how to fix a problem.

On rare occasions, Logan could be found with at least one joint on his person. "I was planning to save this until AFTER we won nationals, but this seemed more important. And nationals aren't for months so the weed would probably be stale by then." He tried to make her laugh, but instead she just looked rattled.

They were on the football team together. Their mothers had been friends since high school (the type of women who grow up but never really leave home), and they'd been born mere days apart, which gave them a bond unlike the others. This, Jade constantly reminded herself, was why her parents didn't make a larger fuss of her playing football with him.

He lit the joint and took the first drag before he passed it to her. "When you're ready, tell me what happened."

It began innocently, as most things do. First Jade started watching Kaylee practice on the side of the field some time last year. Coach had given her a fair deal of shit for it too. "If you want to cheer with the other little princesses, then be my guest," he spat. But after all the work she'd gone through to get on the team in the first place, Jade couldn't risk sacrificing her spot, so she tamped the feelings down. But time went on and they found reasons to run into each other.

From there it was stolen kisses in the girl's locker room after the others left, or finding their way to the bathroom at exactly the right moment.

Logan passed the joint and Jade accepted it with shaking hands. "I'm dead. I'm so fucking dead. And Kaylee…Jesus, I just left her there!"

Logan grabbed her wrist and brought the joint to her lips until she took a shaky breath in and coughed it out. She'd smoked a few times before, but she couldn't control herself now. "Better?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and nodded a little. Jade took another long drag, this time a better one. The world seemed a little slower after that. They didn't speak until the joint had burned away to nothing, the two of them laying in the grass at the front of their cars as if waiting to be run over.

"Shit, man…what am I going to do? My dad doesn't know yet. Her dad's gonna call my dad."

"That's like, such a weird word," Logan said after a thoughtful pause.

"What?"

"Daaaaaaad-uh," Logan enunciated.

Both of them erupted in a fit of delirious giggles. Jade's phone, resting on her chest, blared a loud, staticky ringtone to whatever popular song she'd fancied at the time she set it. She sat up and looked at the screen, "DAD" visible in the upper left corner.

"'Lo?" she answered it trying to keep her breaths even,

"Where are you right now?" her father asked.

"I'm with Logan. I'll be home soon."

"No, you'll be home now, young lady. Right this minute."

There was a lump in her throat and a rock-solid ball of ice in her stomach. "O-okay… Be right there," her words were soft, afraid. She hung up without a goodbye.

She took one look at Logan and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "If I'm not in school tomorrow, will you look for my body?"

"What're you talking about? Everything is going to be fine," he assured her.

For her sake, she hoped he was right.

* * *

2005

He loved the feeling of owning the streets after dark. Antonio twirled the baseball bat in his hand; his place in the gang was far behind the others as they walked the streets at three in the morning, but he wasn't scared. Not of Diego or Emilio or anyone else. Felix walked beside him, also a new recruit. He'd shaved his head for the occasion—Antonio thought he looked like a newborn baby, but remembering the part where Felix had broken some kid's nose at school shut Antonio up fast.

Antonio Ramos was sixteen, motherless, and had a father who told him he needed to toughen the fuck up. His older sister, Flavia, waitressed to help with the groceries and made sure Antonio went to school and stayed there. "One of us gotta be successful, mijo. Ain't no hope for me, so it'll have to be you."

School was the bane of his existence. His teachers hated him and made sure he knew it, he spent most of his time in detention, got suspended once, and had developed a frequent habit of swearing at his teachers in Spanish before spitting at their feet. He skipped out on classes whenever he felt like it, but he had to be careful about that. A truant officer showed up at the apartment and when Flavia learned he'd been skipping, she got ugly and mean real fast.

But out on the streets, no one could tell him what to do. Not Papi or Flavia, or any of his stupid teachers. For effect he whooped and drove his bat into a garbage can. Felix laughed at that, but no one else paid him anymore notice than a tempered glance. Keep your fucking head down, that glance said.

The pack turned down an alley where a homeless man lay sleeping.

"Initiation night, runts!" Diego stopped with his arms folded. The more senior members stepped to the side, allowing Antonio and Felix to step forth.

"You think you're hot shit now, don't you? You ain't shit. But you gonna be the shit. I'm gonna make men out of the both of you." Diego circled them like a shark.

Antonio felt the adrenaline rush as the tension in the air grew thicker.

"Your final initiation task? Kill this fucker." Diego pointed to the sleeping homeless man.

Antonio's blood ran cold. Suddenly he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do this, but he felt the fear rising in his chest. What would they do to him if he couldn't perform? They'd beat him to a pulp and leave him for dead beside the homeless man.

So, swallowing his conscience, Antonio went forth, bat poised, and took the first swing. It landed with a dense CRACK against the man's jaw. Felix joined in, ignited by the man's screaming, but the whole thing was terrifying and dizzying at the same time. His head spun.

His bat dropped to the ground and he stood there for a moment wondering what he'd just done. How could he have done that? Mami would've been pissed… Worse than pissed.

But he realized there were sirens behind him and everyone had fled. He'd been lost in some hopeless daze and before he knew it he was cuffed and shoved in the back of a police car.

At the station, he proved himself to be a tough one to crack. Even under ruthless questioning and near-assault, they still hadn't learned even his name. They found no ID on him, and he refused to speak. "You get caught, you don't speak a fuckin' word. Not a single fuckin' word, you got that?" Diego had gotten in his face about it and nearly beat him to a pulp to hold his attention. "Those motherfuckers can't lay a finger on you, so you just keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

He was doing a remarkable job of it, but his resolve weakened when Flavia and Papi showed up at the station after identifying him on the news.

He might as well have dug his grave in that fuckin' alley…

* * *

PRESENT DAY

She was lucky she hadn't been killed. Supposedly, grounding was sufficient punishment, but the whole ordeal had been uncomfortable, made worse by the fact that, while her mother knew the truth about her daughter's sexuality (and was plenty comfortable with it), the woman still had to take her father's side.

And so she went to school, feeling empty, feeling lost, and hoping her only possible ray of sunshine might show up in their second period history class. When Kaylee didn't show up, she sent a text message.

R u ok?

She impatiently waited for a response, but even that was met with silence. Jade instead ate lunch with Logan and their other teammates, talking about football camp this summer and how intense Coach was setting it up to be. But Jade couldn't even bring herself to eat, much less talk. She stared at Kaylee's empty spot at the cheerleaders' usual table with a sick feeling in her stomach.

But one class went by and then another and when the end of the day rolled around, she watched the clock with such agonized focus that Mr. Sellers had to snap his fingers in her face before she looked at him. "My eyes are up here, Miss Stoddard. If you aren't going to pay attention, you can make your way to the office."

"Sorry, sir," she whispered.

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind answering the problem I was explaining on the board?"

Jade looked at the equation on the board before she got out of her seat and picked up a stubby piece of chalk from the ledge. She never liked to read or talk about stories, but math? Math, Jade could do. She took a deep breath and focused on solving the problem at hand, glad for the moment to have something else to focus on.

Finally, she set the piece of chalk back down on the ledge and walked back to her seat while Mr. Sellers looked it over. "Good work, Miss Stoddard." He nodded and looked up at the clock before announcing homework for the night. Homework Jade was sure she'd struggle to focus on. But the bell finally rang and she was the first to flee the classroom, all but running out to her truck.

She didn't even touch the radio, just focused on the road as she drove the familiar path to Kaylee's. Jade barely even remembered to shut the door before she went running up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. At first, there was no answer, and the second time there wasn't either, but by the third time Jade had begun to pound on the door, Mr. Fletcher showed up at the door.

"You're not welcome here anymore, you vile heathen. Get off my property."

"Not until I see Kaylee."

"You will not EVER see my daughter again. You will not touch her. You will not look her direction, and if I have anything to do with it, you will never see her again either." His face was turning red with rage, but Jade refused to let that stop her.

"I'm not afraid of you! And you can't keep her shut away forever." She was ready to start swinging, but he did first. He sent a punch squarely to her jaw and she bit her tongue hard in the process. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

"Get the fuck out of here before I call the police, you homosexual mongrel. I hope your parents put you through conversion therapy. See if it'll get rid of your disgusting perversion."

He went back inside and closed the door. Jade picked herself up and went after him, banging on the door for a while until she realized it would do no good. She walked back to her truck, massaging her jaw before she opened the car door. She looked up to Kaylee's bedroom window and saw the merest sliver of her peeking through a slit in the curtains before she vanished.

If only things had gone differently. If only, if only, if only.

* * *

Unable to sleep, Colin had seized the chance to step out onto the balcony and let the sea breeze flutter through his hair. Still a bit chilly, given it was only spring, but soon enough the weather would be warmer.

He liked to entertain the idea of he and Clarice coming up to the beach house on their own, away from the prying eyes of their parents. He wanted to spend nights chasing her room to room, the pair of them wholly undressed, inside and out. He liked the idea of filling the beach house with their children and family and friends for anniversary gatherings and the like. He drew a breath of the fresh air and turned back into his suite, closing and bolting the doors shut before he pulled the drapes.

He pulled the robe from the chaise and wrapped up in it before he exited the room to use the bathroom down the hall. It seemed strange to him that one of the lamps at the end should be on—perhaps Clarice had left it (she never had liked the dark), so he went to turn it off. It was the slight gap in the door that he found disconcerting. Clarice, whom he knew so well to relish her privacy, would never have done such a thing.

He opened the door to see Dr. Pembroke standing over her, injecting something into her arm. In shock and surprise, he spoke. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked.

Surprised, Simona immediately withdrew the emptied syringe and emerged into the hallway, closing the door gingerly behind her before she pulled him a ways down the hall. "Please keep yourself quiet, this is not something for Clarice to know, but I might as well tell you. You'll be her husband and someday this might well be your responsibility."

Suddenly intrigued and concerned, Colin leaned closer as if it were a secret to remain between them. "I don't tell her this because I don't wish to destroy her opportunity for a good life, but Clarice has a very serious condition that if left untreated or unmanaged could destroy her."

"How?" Colin dared to ask.

"She would become completely unreachable. We've given her her life back, but she remembers none of what happened before and for the sake of her happiness, this is how it must stay. Understood?"

Colin weighed all of this. "And…what you were giving her just now?"

"Maintenance. You love my daughter, do you not?"

"Yes, of course I do—"

"You do not want to see the kind of person she might become if she did not receive these treatments, I promise you. That girl you love would be as good as dead. Don't speak of this to her, I won't warn you again."

"I won't. You have my word, Dr. Pembroke. Thank you for sharing this with me."

He made his way to the bathroom, turning to see if she was still watching him there, but he saw her leave with a flourish of her silken robe toward the balcony that overlooked the foyer and inevitably to the room on the other side of the house.

Colin checked on Clarice once before he returned to his own suite. She seemed to be sleeping comfortably, so he kissed her head and moved along, turning the lamp in the hall out as he went. He thought to himself that at this juncture, most men probably would have run far, far away. But not him. No. He would take care of her. In sickness and in health.

* * *

Damian shrugged his shoulders once, testing the blazer's fit. The tailor flitted around behind him, checking the cleanliness of the suit's lines in the mirror.

"That suit looks sharp on you, son," Jonas remarked, stepping up behind him. Black and dark shades of blue seemed to suit him best, but the olive green had been Damian's choice—a bold one, given his darker complexion, but he looked handsome in it. Damian adjusted his tie and looked at himself in the mirror.

"I know it's a strange color, but I feel like it makes a bold statement without being too gaudy," Damian shrugged the jacket off and slipped into the vest the tailor was holding for him.

"Have you given any more thought to what we've spoken about?" Jonas asked.

"Dad, I wish you'd stop asking." How could Damian possibly forget. The future was on his shoulders, Dr. Holt argued, but Damian would hear none of it. He cared little about the path his father would have liked him to carve. He wanted to create his own path in life, and with any luck at all, he would.

"I just think you need to consider the Ph.D. options. Somedaay you may not want to be a practicing attorney. It helps to have enough experience and competence on your resume—with that, you could teach at Yale, you know."

"I know, dad."

"And you plan to be Colin Carrigan's advising attorney for the campaign?" Dr. Holt asked.

"He did ask for my help. I'd be obliged to give it to him. Forgive me, father, I didn't realize I was harming any well-laid plan."

"Harming any—? No, heavens no. I think it's a wonderful idea. You do have a good head on your shoulders. Always have. Ever since you were a young boy." Jonas smiled and patted his son's shoulder. "I expect he'll want you to be his lawyer someday too, after he's taken his seat in the House and married Clarice."

'Perhaps Clarice was right,' Damian thought. Colin intended to keep both of them tethered close. He wasn't certain if he liked that plan or not, but for now he'd go along with it.

"Have you given any more consideration to your Ph.D. though?"

"I honestly haven't, dad. I have finals coming up next week, my Masters degree to graduate with, a campaign to partially advise, and a position as Colin's best man in his wedding. I'll consider it when all of the fuss has died down."

"As long as you do consider it, that's all I care about."

"Of course." Damian buttoned his vest and put the jacket back on, admiring his reflection, even though he was almost certain he did not recognize the man in the mirror.

They sat him in a chair to wait for Dr. Harvey whom they promised would be in shortly. The room was unlike the one they had been in the other day. No windows, no cozy rug. Just blank, piercing white walls, glaring white linoleum, and nothing to put his mind at ease. The room seemed physically colder too, but so had his cell, which seemed much the same.

* * *

He hadn't slept well. At some point after his light had gone out, his eyes having already closed, he woke to the sound of screaming. He was instantly up and trying to see out the small observation window in his door, but he saw nothing. He heard a loud THUNK come from his door and others down the corridor and realized not only was he locked in, but he was secured completely.

That piqued his anxiety and sent him reeling. He paced the cell for a while until he heard the door again, this time the bolt sliding back, while he returned to the door. One of the guards that had been posted outside earlier took up residence out there again. Travis knocked on the door. "Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, but there was no response.

Dr. Harvey entered and sat in the chair opposite him as she had done before. "Good morning Mr. Ford, how did you sleep?"

"I didn't," he told her flatly.

"And why is that?"

"I heard a girl screaming. Is she alright?"

"That's none of your concern and I'll thank you not to ask about it again." Dr. Harvey clicked her pen and made a note on her legal pad. "Don't concern yourself with anything here that does not involve you. I promise you it won't end well."

Her warning made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "I just wondered if she wa—"

"Enough, Mr. Ford. I'll hear no more from you. Today is an important day," she declared. "Today we begin your treatment." The smile on her face made him uneasy.

She stood up and watched him expectantly for a moment before he realized he was supposed to get up now too. She led him from the room and down the hall to a smaller one with a table, a strange machine, a chair, and a counter with a light on the underside of the cupboard above it. She instructed him to lie back and make himself comfortable. Someone would be in to begin shortly.

She couldn't convince herself to start the process. They would administer a test that would study his comfort levels by asking questions. Like a lie detector test, this one determined how he felt about everything from simple disagreement scenarios to more dangerous material, for instance in what capacity he might proposition or even rape a woman. It was a test to determine the severity of his temper and also one through which they would discover his weaknesses to begin breaking him down, cell for cell, until he was as good as a shell of a human being. Then they would rebuild him from scratch to be the ideal model, whatever that counted for anymore.

Gwen didn't have the sensibility for anything of that nature today. She'd leave it up to Kensington.

* * *

Damian and Colin ran along the beach, their strides matching pace for pace. Damian, slightly shorter, had to sprint a little faster to keep up, but wouldn't suffer himself to lose his competitive edge at anything. The sand made both of them clumsy, and although it wasn't a race, he felt compelled to do better.

But Colin was the one who spent his time running and working at the gym. He had more stamina and he knew it. A mile had passed and he'd scarcely broken a sweat. In another setting, he might've made some joke about how he didn't sweat when he was running and he wouldn't sweat when he was running for House Representative (insert charming laughter).

Another half mile later, Damian had fallen just slightly behind pace and stopped to catch his breath. Colin slouched, his hands on his knees. "Good run, buddy," he laughed. Damian, gasping for air, heaved himself onto wet sand and lay there, letting the tide rock him while he laughed too.

"Man, I'm really out of shape. You sure you wouldn't settle for being a personal trainer instead?" His chest heaved. He sat up and pulled off his muck-sodden shirt, smiling as Colin extended a hand to help him up.

"Only if you settle for flipping burgers."

They headed back home again with Colin prattling carelessly about campaign catchphrases. "You can count on Colin!" was one Damian came up with and he was happy to see Colin agree with him. It occurred to Damian that he still didn't know anything about the true nature of his friend's politics (let alone whether or not he'd vote for him), but Colin seemed sure of himself and in all the years Damian had known him, he'd proven himself a charmer and a people-pleaser. It was difficult for Damian to believe he might not win regardless.

They entered through the French doors at the back that led to Dr. Pembroke's raised flower beds on a section of the terrace. Pembroke, Colin's mother, Marlene, and Damian's father sat around the sitting room; Clarice played the piano in the corner, greeting the boys without missing a beat, and turning back to focus on the music.

"Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green,  
When I am king, dilly, dilly, You shall be queen.  
Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?  
'Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so."

She played the tune and it held a much more mystic and romantic quality. Damian listened to her, falling in love with the voice of an angel among them. She seemed naturally talented toward music, unlike himself. The again, he couldn't remember being good at such things as a boy either. No patience, all temper. He had great respect for her as it was, but he'd never known her in this way.

Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, Lavender's blue,  
If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you.  
Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, And the lambs play;  
We shall be safe, dilly, dilly, out of harm's way.

I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to sing;  
When I am queen, dilly, dilly, You'll be my king.  
Who told me so, dilly, dilly, Who told me so?  
I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so."

"That was nice, darling, but we all know you have much more talent than something so simple. Play us another, won't you?" Dr. Pembroke urged.

Damian frowned. He hadn't thought anything wrong with Clarice's performance and wondered why Dr. Pembroke always nitpicked. Such an irritating habit…he wondered how Clarice could stand the constant criticism. But she nodded in simple acquiescence and plucked another volume of sheet music off the shelf, paging through it before she found something to suit her fancy.

Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven. Damian only recognized it because it was a piece he'd heard at a piano concert in New York last fall. At the time he found it morose and dull, but it now seemed mournful and emotional. He wondered if she was thinking of Dr. Andreas and his eyes.

Becoming aware of how uncivilly he was dressed for this occasion, he made his excuses and left the room to find himself a shirt and a serviceable shower. Still, one floor up, he could hear her playing and he felt an animalistic stab of jealousy that he had allowed his friend to get the girl he was sure he could have gotten if he'd given it a try at all.

* * *

She was fighting to open her eyes. The lights overhead were bright, but a warm yellow. It struck her that she had no idea where she was and the glitter faded quickly. She tried to sit up as they moved along down a hall, but couldn't. There were at least two people on either side of her, one behind no doubt. Feeling confined and strangely, suddenly claustrophobic, she became acutely aware of her situation.

Kaylee knew three things:

1.) She was not at home.  
2.) She didn't know where she was, or who the people around her were.  
3.) She didn't know what they would do to her.

"Miss Fletcher?" finally the doctor peered over her as the stopped near the end of the hall. "Welcome to the Ludovico Institute. I'm Dr. Kensington."


	4. Episode 3: The Recitative

The girl thrashed hard in the elevator on the way down to the basement corridors. Her mess of blonde hair flew wildly, her feet and wrists working to free themselves, despite the fact that any attempt to escape was useless. Dr. Kensington smiled and withdrew something from his pocket that she didn't see.

"Let me go. Let me go, you have to let me go!" she screamed as the elevator opened. A sharp stab made her wince and crumple back into herself.

"We'll do more in the morning. Tonight we'll see that you get a good night's rest and tomorrow we'll begin."

"Begin what?" she asked, the fog clouding her brain again.

"Your conversion therapy, dear. Just what your father ordered."

Kaylee wanted to vomit.

* * *

A hundred miles away Jade was pacing in her room. School aside, her father had not given her permission to leave these four walls and without a computer or phone, she was beginning to lose her mind. Books didn't help—she'd already read them and her mind always seemed to wander. Her homework was done for the next week and a half. She even considered trying to do the work Kaylee had missed, but she hadn't seen her in two days.

Jade had visited Kaylee's house three times and almost each time an officer had driven up and asked if there was a problem. On the third time, she drove away before he could ask.

Something had to be done. Love was not a crime and she had to make them understand. She didn't know how, but she would. It was a Saturday and Jade was not about to suffer herself to be inside anymore. Not for doing the stupid crap kids were supposed to be doing anyway. She opened the bedroom door and walked out easily and unafraid.

"I'd better hear that door close again in three minutes, Jaden Lorraine Stoddard," her father's voice reminded her from downstairs.

Instead, she took each step down with firmly planted, stomping steps. "What are you going to do, ground me?" She asked, standing on the bottom step, scowling into the living room where her father sat with the paper.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid this wasn't part of the plan," the young woman sat with a man on the sofa, neither of whom Jade recognized. They no doubt gathered such a thing gauging from the confused look on her face.

"They are here to take you with them," her father announced putting the folded paper aside.

"Take me where? Where am I going?"

"It was a recommendation of Larry Fletchers's actually. The Ludovico Institute. They're going to help you overcome whatever this…new thing of yours is."

"Well I'm not going. It's bullshit and I'm not going. Where's mom?"

"Your mother thought it might be too upsetting for her if she were here, so she left."

Jade paled.

The young woman stood up. "Miss Stoddard, I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Kristen McClaine. You've already been signed over to us, and I'm sorry that you don't have more say in the matter, but it's more favorable if you go willingly. If you won't, then Warren is prepared to help me if he must."

"Leave? With two total strangers? As if!" Jade took two steps up before Kristen reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Let go of me, I'm not going anywhere with you people."

"I told you, you don't have a choice, Miss Stoddard, please don't make this harder on yourself." The woman's eyes pleaded with her, imploring her to behave, but Jade couldn't make herself.

"What about my friends?" she asked feebly.

"I'm sure they'll understand. Think of it like boarding school."

"I never wanted to play Harry Potter. Leave me the fuck ALONE!"

Kristen sighed and let her gaze fall to the floor. Warren stood from his place on the sofa and followed a rushing Jade up the stairs. He pinned her against the wall in the hallway, holding her wrists tight while he slapped a pair of cuffs around them. "I've met at least a dozen girls with more fight in them than you," he said and marched her back down the stairs and outside.

Of course they'd do this on a Saturday when everyone in the world was at home. Of course they'd make a show of it. Jade, however, was not sorry about any of that. Now he'd have to atone for the whole neighborhood's curiosity and maybe it was better that way.

She sat in the backseat, silent to the bone all the way to West Haven.

* * *

They drove the car through a pair of wrought iron gates that could only be opened by buzzer, and then down a gravel path. The whole time Jade looked from the window in awe of the building.

It was a brick structure with high, grand windows and a horizontal corridor squished between two respective wings flanking the right and left of the building. The hedges were neatly trimmed and the lawns (rich green and not a trace of dead grass anywhere) were perfectly manicured. It did look like something out of a boarding school leaflet, and for the fifteen minutes of ignorance she was allowed, she thought maybe this wouldn't be such a terrible place after all.

That was before the strip search and being shoved into a shower stall with no curtain and someone standing guard just outside of it.

The intake portion completed, Jade was left in a waiting room where a boy sat drumming his fingers on his knee.

"So," he said, bobbing his head. "Who're you, mystery girl?"

"Jade," she answered a little reluctantly.

He stuck out a hand. "Austin."

"You okay?" Jade asked, noticing he couldn't sit still.

"Nicotine withdrawal. They won't give me my fuckin' smokes back. Took 'em off me at the station."

"You got arrested?" Jade asked, kicking herself for all the questions she asked.

"Don't look so prissy about it. You did something' too or else you wouldn't be here."

Jade felt the color drain from her face. Suddenly there was no question, no witty insult, and nothing at all to fire back at him for that.

"So what is it you did? What'd you do to piss the old man off?"

"I'd rather not, thanks. It's none of your business."

"C'mon."

She was ready to knock his fucking lights out. "I got caught eating my girlfriend out and her dad wasn't too happy about that."

Austin laughed in loud, hiccuping bursts. "Holy shit, oh my god!"

Jade flew from the chair and knocked him sideways with a single blow to the head. She reared back and hit him a second time, feeling his nose crack sideways before someone dragged her off, kicking and screaming down the hall. They shoved her into another room and pinned her down on the floor.

A pinch in her arm made her wince at first, but then things started to slow down. Instead of feeling anxious and angry, instead she felt like she was drifting out of the building and far away.

They loosened their hold on her and she stayed put, unaware that the door had opened.

"Jaden Stoddard. I'm Dr. Holt. You and I are going to get to know each other today."

"Jade," she whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

"Call me Jade."

* * *

2006

"Right this way Dr. Pembroke. I'll advise you to keep to the middle of the hallway. This bunch ain't as civilized as real people, if you know what I mean."

Like a woman perusing her options at the pound, Simona wandered the corridor, peering curiously from a distance into each observation window. The prisoners in solitary confinement were an unruly bunch, but none initially met her requirements. Most of them were too old. But behind one door, she saw the ratty mess of blonde hair and a young girl who sat folded into herself on the bed against the wall.

She approached the viewing window and watched for a moment.

"Name's Lucy Harris, sixteen years old. Little man in her head told her to shoot mommy and daddy and her little sister too. They tried her as an adult on account of the fact that scene was pretty violent. I'm sure you could look into it if you needed to know anything."

"Open it."

"Ma'am?"

"The door, open it."

"Ma'am, I don't think you under—"

"No, I believe it is you who does not understand. I said open the door. She isn't going to hurt me."

Against his better judgement, he let the doctor in. She peered around to see the girl's face, hidden behind a curtain of dirty golden hair. Her fingernails—or what remained of them—were bloody, some of it dried. She dug at a spot on the wall, whispering to herself. Her toes looked much the same and there were long scratches on her arms in various states of healing.

"Lucy?" Simona asked, crouching to her level. "I'm Simona."

Lucy gave a shy and feral glance to the doctor and looked back to the wall.

"I'm here to take you to a better place, sweetheart," Simona tried her softest and most encouraging tone, reaching up to stroke the girl's head. Lucy flinched and clung to the wall.

"Can't go," she whispered. "Can't go. Can't leave. Here forever…" she tapped her temple with a bloody finger. "Not supposed to talk to you," she inched herself away from Simona and into the corner. She let out a little, squeaking sob and sniffed. Then suddenly with skull-splitting force, she cracked her head against the wall. "Bad girl," she growled and did it again. "Stupid, stupid girl."

Before she could do it again, Simona grabbed her by the shoulders (she shrieked and kicked and clawed), pinned her back, and pulled a needle from her purse. The solution dispersed and Lucy's breaths slowed.

Simona could finally see all of her. Scratches on her chest as if she'd tried to claw her own beating heart out of it. She was bruised and dirty, the spot where the skin had broken on her hairline bled out onto her pallid skin, giving her a ghoulishly gray and corpselike appearance. Simona stroked her knotted hair. "There now. Everything is going to get better."

One of her staff helped to bring Lucy out to the waiting car. Dr. Pembroke even took the risk of sitting in the back seat with her to clean her injury, assess the damage, and keep her comfortable for the time being.

The nurses at the institute cleaned her up and applied the necessary treatments to her scars and tender fingertips, redressed her and waited patiently for Dr. Pembroke's orders.

"She's currently a stage five risk. I don't want anyone approaching her without a sedative and a team. We'll start an intensive intravenous antipsychotic regimen until we can get her back under control, gradually increasing therapy. We're going to have to modify the course of treatment to suit her needs. All of the original data is out on this one, so tread carefully."

Simona brushed a strand of blonde hair across Lucy's forehead. "Don't worry dear, we're going to get you help. I'm going to give you your life back."

* * *

Dr. Holt had always particularly liked this board room. In its former days, it had been a library and home to some exquisite volumes that still existed within his own office and the institute itself. This room, however, overlooked the atrium below in the underground level visible through a glass dome. It also gave a particularly good view of Ludo's grounds. Rolling, green, and thriving.

The campus was nearly the size of the institute itself. There was a small, cropped hedge maze off the western wing that Dr. Pembroke took a modicum of pride in. Directly adjacent in the shadow of the manor at the back was Dr. Carrigan's rose garden (it was home to other things too, but the woman cultivated a rose only a little better than she'd cultivated her work at the institute, which was to say they were extraordinary.

Jonas and the others had also made contributions—his in particular happened to be some of the most enchanting works of art the new age had to offer (some were replicas, but deceptively so). The portrait over the mantle in the board room had been one of his choosing. A charming (and sometimes almost garish) depiction of young colonial children running and playing in a yard. It had seemed particularly fitting at the time, but now he stood in its wake wondering why he'd liked it so well in the first place.

The door to the room opened again as the last two of his colleagues assembled and the rest gathered around.

Simona and Marlene sat at the head and foot of the table, always looking each other directly in the eye like a pair of tigresses prepared to fight each other over antelope. He sat opposite William, and across from Gwen was the place where Oliver ought to have been. Each of them busied themselves by pulling out manilla folders marked with spotless labels of their current patients.

"Alright, is everyone prepared to begin?" Simona asked. "We've a bit of a situation on our hands."

"Begin wherever you like, Dr. Pembroke," William invited. He had a keen interest in her—Jonas and Oliver had always been aware of that much, but if she knew, she didn't let on.

"We find ourselves faced with an unusual dilemma. Miss Fletcher and Miss Stoddard have…a history, shall we say. It would negate her father's wishes to allow Miss Fletcher to fraternize with her…classmate." Simona seemed reluctant to speak on the particulars of the girls' relationship, but everyone had read the file and these were not things that needed saying out loud.

"Therefore," she began again, shuffling her notes. "I ask that you all take extra care. They are not to know of their proximity. Next order."

Gwen took up seamlessly where Simona left off. "Mr. Ford is hardly the most serious of cases we've seen, but his position in life could better benefit him under the given circumstances." She flipped to another page. "His risk level is roughly a one. Can soar as high as a three when he's angry, but he sees to reason and knows what he did was wrong. He suffers from dyslexia and dyscalculia, so down the line he'll need a bit of work in those areas. Otherwise, I see no reason not to start him slow and bring him around gradually." Her notes circulated around the table for observation.

"He was very suggestible, which works in his favor and ours," William added, leaning forward. "He's willing and determined. And his brother, Teddy, makes for particularly useful leverage."

"Next order," Marlene called, handing Travis' paperwork back to Gwen with little interest.

"Mr. Morris has a long substance abuse history and it seems no one knows what he's like sober anymore," Jonas spoke. "He'll have to detox for a few weeks—"

"Controlled diet then; all organic, nothing genetically modified and no hormones. We'll start from scratch with his diet," Simona interjected. "Keep his fat and sugar intake low and make sure he's getting his exercise for the duration. He'll need to purge whatever toxins he's put into his body."

There was a nod of agreement round the table.

"Dr. Pembroke," Gwen dared at last. "I was wondering if you'd given anymore thought to the situation we last spoke about. Mr. Ford heard her screaming the other night—"

"Then she must be moved where Mr. Ford and Mr. Morris will not have her disturbance. I'll leave you to that since you know better what Dr. Andreas' plan for her was. Next order, how are the others getting on since the incident at the gala?"

"It was murder," Gwen protested, but the others continued to talk over her.

"No noticeable disturbances in Damian's behavior. He seems as much unchanged as he ever has," Jonas added.

"She killed him, you must know—" Gwen still fought to get a word in edgewise.

"Colin's exercise habits have gotten slightly more persistent, but I can't tell if he's just preening for the way he'll look in a suit for campaign photos or if it had anything to do with Dr. Andreas," Marlene joked.

The men laughed good-naturedly.

"Clarice's behavior seemed off at the beach house. I've had to adjust the dosage of her medication accordingly but if the situation does not improve, I'll be sending her your way, Dr. Harvey."

Gwen's jaw was taught. She drew a breath and held her gaze on Holt's stupid colonial renaissance painting, lips pursed.

"Next order, I was thinking we ought to commemorate a wing in Dr. Andreas' honor. Or perhaps the atrium? Does anyone else have any ideas? He was as much a part of our success as all of us."

"Success? SUCCESS?!" Gwen stood, her temper quickly animalistic. "This has not been a success at all, you're just too blinded to see it." Her rage was met with blind stares and awe. "You've no proof that any of these results are sustainable beyond ten years, there are four children downstairs who've done nothing to warrant the abuses they've been marched into, and beyond that you refuse to acknowledge the monster you've created that lives within these walls!"

"You've no issue in this Gwen, this is not about your feelings, it's about—" Marlene tried to play the mediator.

"I TAKE ETHICAL ISSUE." She was practically seething. "I take ethical issue with this facility's moral code of conduct and I take emotional issue with what's happened to my—" the word caught into her throat before she could choke it out. "Partner."

But he'd always been and always would be so much more to Gwen than a colleague. He was a first and last great love. He was an endless string of possibilities in a finite string of time. He was so many things, but the people in this very room could only hazard blind guesses as to what Oliver had meant to her.

"Dear Dr. Harvey. I'm excusing you from the rest of these proceedings. Go have some water and a walk. I can see you're upset," Simona instructed like some lordly authority.

Gwen considered staying just to spite them, but she closed her open mouth and turned on her heel, marching herself out of the room and away from all the things she wished she had nothing to do with.

* * *

They were supposed to depart Old Saybrook early that evening, but on their way out of town, they paused to have a light supper at a fishery by the seaside.

"I rather liked the old lighthouse," Clarice said, examining the pictures of venues in her phone's gallery. "For pictures anyway. What did you like?"

"Anything but the one with the barn, darling. Barns and hay bales are for poor people." He set a brochure aside. "And I'd rather we not do it on the beach either. You know I find your ideas wonderful and charming, but your hair will be a mess at high tide and you'll ruin your dress."

Blushing, Clarice looked back down at her phone.

"I liked the inn. It had a rustic feel without being too common, but I much prefer the venues we looked at upstate. …Clarice?" it occurred to him she wasn't paying attention. "I just want things to look perfect for you, that's all. You deserve a wedding to rival Kate Middleton's."

This brought a small smile around to her face. "You don't want to be outside at all?" she asked, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Outside? Are you kidding? Outdoor weddings are filthy, Clarice, there's…wildlife to contend with, among other things. You'd have seagulls shitting everywhere—"

"Colin," she reprimanded him sharply under her breath.

"Well you would. And there's the wind and the tide. It's cheap, darling. I'm only suggesting that you deserve so much better. You should have a fairytale."

Clarice tried a smile, but she still felt bruised. "All that matters is that there will be you and I, and at the end of the day we'll be married."

He scoffed at that, her brow furrowing in response. "Oh, you were serious. Sweetheart, I'm running for House Representative of Connecticut. We have to think about image—all of the most important news outlets will want pictures. I would rather we pick someplace indoors."

"I suppose that's fair," her voice remained soft and submissive. He reached across the table and took her hand.

"I'm glad," he stroked the side of her hand with her thumb. "I'm very stressed and very busy right now. The wedding is the least of my concerns, so I'm counting on you."

"What?" she tried to pull her hand back, but he gripped a little tighter, pressing his thumb deeper into her skin, the most ion becoming uncomfortable.

"You're going to have to do your best to make sure there's nothing unsightly or embarrassing. I want us to look good, and I trust you, so please don't mess this up. We're only going to get one chance." His eyes bore into hers. She tried again to pull her hand back.

"This is our wedding. I'm not going to plan this all by myself. Let go, Colin," she demanded.

"You'll do whatever the hell I say, Clarice," he gripped her wrist tight, pinching the skin and causing her to wince. She sucked in a breath and pursed her lips. "Understood?"

"Is there a problem here?" a stranger intervened. His presence was just enough to catch Colin off guard, allowing Clarice to hastily take her hand back and stick it under the table where he wouldn't reach it again.

"Is there a problem, Clarice?" Colin turned to her, blinking.

She shrank, utterly embarrassed. "No. No there's no problem. Thank you for your concern."

The gentleman still seemed suspicious, but after a long, parting glance, he turned away from Clarice and left them alone. "I would like to head back to West Haven now, if you don't mind. I'm not feeling very well." She dabbed her mouth and stood, excusing herself to the ladies room where she gave herself a moment to be upset and another to piece herself back together again.

* * *

Downstairs in the belly of the Institute, a nurse escorted Jade into a common room of sorts, if it could be called that. The light overhead flickered once and then brightened, shedding light on a white room with two tables, each with two chairs, a white sofa, and to the left, cabinet doors built into the walls.

Another young man stood across the room and turned as she entered.

"Wait here. Someone will be around to collect you and take you to your room soon."

Jade shivered in the thin gown. "So who are you?" she asked after the door had closed.

"Travis."

The door opened again and another male was deposited. Jade recognized him, Travis didn't.

"How's the nose?" Jade smirked, feeling particularly smug. By the look of it they had set and braced it back into place.

"Fine, no thanks to you, you little bitch."

Whatever they'd given her was beginning to wear off and her temper flared, but she turned away from him. "This is Austin and he's an asshole. Just thought I'd save you the trouble."

"Look, man. I'm sorry about the hard feelings before. I'm scared shitless right now, okay? They pulled me from the cop shop and looked at my track record. Didn't stand a fucking chance, they were probably gonna shelf me 'til I'm thirty five for drug possession. Figured this couldn't be any worse than that."

Reluctantly Jade glanced up at him from the floor. "I am too. One minute I'm home and I'm grounded and the next I'm… Jesus…"

"What about you?" Austin looked Travis.

"Theft. I was just trying to look after my little brother. They stuck him in foster care and put me here."

"Shit, man."

"Been here long?" Jade asked.

"I don't really know. Just know when the lights go on and off, so I guess, like…a week maybe?"

"There's no windows down here?" Austin asked.

He shook his head. "Upstairs is just for show, I take it."

That seemed to quiet the whole room.

"Right, okay. So are we the only ones down here?" Austin asked.

"Don't know," Travis said. "Haven't seen anybody. I heard a girl though. She was screaming."

"Screaming how?" Jade asked.

"I don't know! She was just screaming okay?" Travis snapped.

"I don't trust this place. New rule: if one of us goes missing, the other two come looking. No man…uh… person left behind. Deal?" Austin said.

The other two nodded in unison as the door swung open one more time and Kristen stepped inside. "I'm here to take you to your rooms now."

Warren took the boys down one hallway while Kristen took Jade down another.

"Where are we going?" she asked, feeling apprehensive. The halls were like a rat maze and now she'd lost track. Was this deliberate, she wondered.

"I'm taking you to your room. Female dorms are this way."

"Dorms. Are they dorms or cells or rooms? Is this a boarding school, prison, or a hotel? Which is it?" Jade demanded, feeling more and more anxious the further away she got.

"This is where you'll be staying for the time being, Miss Stoddard."

Kristen showed her in to a simple, plain little chamber with a door of plexiglass that closed with the sound of a vacuum seal when she pushed a button. The glass frosted for privacy after a series of quick beeps on the keypad before she left Jade alone.

The boys at least had each other. But what would come of her down here all by herself?

* * *

Dr. Carrigan was pruning a rosebush when Dr. Pembroke stepped foot into the gardens, heading straight for her colleague.

"I've just gotten off the phone with Clarice," Simona began hotly. "She said Colin behaved forcefully at supper last night."

Marlene looked concerned, at first. But she snipped her clippers at a stem once again. "You've known him at least ten years, Mona. He's always had a bit of a streak in him."

"A bit of a streak— Marlene, I warned you. Keep him on a tight leash, I said. He's perfectly fine, you said. This is your fault and you need to bring him to heel."

"Boys will be boys, Dr. Pembroke," Marlene, said darkly, dropping the affectionate pet name.

Simona snatched the shears from her hand and aimed them at her throat. "Boys will be boys. Hm, indeed. Need I remind you what he did to be sent to this institution in the first place? Need I remind you that he is going after my daughter?"

"She's not your daughter, Simona. The same way Colin is not my son. The same way Damian does not belong to Dr. Holt. She is your experiment. Now, I'm sorry if you and Monty could never have kids of your own, but I would think," Marlene grunted, pushing herself up to full height again, "that after losing your husband and all the risks you've taken for the sake of this institute, you'd do what needs to be done to remain impartial. Have your subject's best interests at heart, not your own." She took the shears back, picked up the bucket of trimmings, and walked away.

Simona stood stewing in her own rage. She'd been fiercely protective of Clarice from day one when she was still Lucy Harris, a frightened child locked in an inhospitable place. Marlene had not been there to witness what Simona had seen, nor had Marlene followed Clarice's case beyond notes in the margins of her file. The lack of acknowledgement and care for one of their successful test subjects was profoundly disturbing to her.

"This is our life's work!" Simona called after her, still shaking in anger. "Are you really willing to forsake everything? Do you really not care about the future of our society—"

"They were, people, Simona. For god's sake, these kids were people. They belonged to someone."

"Oh this is rich coming from the woman who convinced Mr. And Mrs. Preston to sign their son over to you!"

Marlene stormed up close and pointed the pruning shears at Simona's neck. "Now you listen, thos is a business, Simona. You can't have a heart in this line of work, that's what you told me. So I pushed it down, but I have had more than enough of you today. I know where I stand in all of this. But my question is, do you? Clarice is not your child. This project is."

Simona scowled, but she couldn't answer Marlene's question, and her colleague seemed just as content to ignore her. With an irate huff, Simona marched right past her as if she didn't exist, submerged herself in the building's shadow, and inevitably disappeared somewhere inside of its depths.

* * *

Shortly after the lights had come up (a sign he had come to associate with daytime), they retrieved him and brought him to the room where he waited now. He fidgeted in an almost tourette-like manner, and the cold temperature of the room did him no favors. Austin shivered, but whether it was nervousness or withdrawal, he couldn't tell anymore. His teeth clacked together.

They'd been feeding him strange foods he'd never heard of and wasn't sure he even liked. The first few times, he puked up the dark green leafy vegetable steamed on his tray, but that he was sure had nothing to do with the food.

The room, like the rest of those in the basement, was sterile white and nearly empty, but for a chair and some sort of high tech treadmill. The machine was white with a glass pane across the top that lit up with life when touched. He felt spooked and insecure among the bareness of the rooms and corridors and he'd taken to sleeping to shut those insecurities out.

Dr. Holt walked in with a smile and an open hand. "Mr. Morris. We've not really had the chance to properly introduce ourselves. I'm Dr. Holt. We met the day you arrived, but I seem to recall at the time your nose was broken and bleeding. How are you feeling now?"

Austin shrugged, feeling himself shrink inward.

"Well, the first step we're taking is to put you through a complete detox. You've been eating an organic, whole food diet in effort to purge the toxins from drug use, but we would also like to keep you active. If you wouldn't mind please?" Dr. Holt gestured to the treadmill.

Austin hesitantly stepped onto it as Dr. Holt pulled some cords from an unseen cabinet in the wall and stuck them to Austin's head and chest, and eventually to the treadmill before he started it up on a slow setting. They waited a few minutes, Austin staring ahead as he walked, the treadmill slowly increasing speed.

Before long, he was jogging and gradually then he began to run. The machine sped up until he was struggling to keep up. "Can't you slow it down a bit?"

Dr. Holt made notes in his file, but seemed to take no interest in Austin's pleas. The treadmill sped up faster still and Austin was forced to grip the sides for fear of his inability to stay on the moving belt. Dr. Holt made another note of his rising body temperature, pulse and speed. But the movement became too much and Austin retched miserably, unable to keep moving, and allowed the treadmill to buck him off.

He sat against the wall, panting and covered in his own vomit. The treadmill had stopped, and Dr. Holt, with a resigned sigh, walked over to him, helped him up, and started the process all over again.

It went on four more times with the exact same results until the boy's lungs burned, his head throbbed, and his throat was raw. His clothes were no longer white, and his whole body shivered in protest.

* * *

Kristen brought Jade into the common room where Travis was waiting. He sat at one of the tables working on some sort of puzzle in his hands and didn't acknowledge Jade until Kristen had left.

He threw the puzzle down and looked up at her. "They took Austin this morning right after the light came back on. Haven't seen him since."

"Relax, I'm sure it's fine…" Jade trailed off, doubting herself. "If he's not back by tomorrow morning, we'll look for him, sound good?"

Travis nodded. "Don't like it here. I don't trust these people. Who locks a bunch of kids in a basement without windows or nothin'? They done anything with you yet?"

"Just talk therapy type stuff. They keep trying to get to know me. Did they do the weird lie detector test to you yet?" Jade asked, thinking back to some of the questions they posed to her the day before. She gave an involuntary shudder as a chill rippled down her spine. Jade played with the ends of her dark hair out of habit.

"Day one," he nodded. "The longer I wait to get somewhere with these guys, the more I wonder what they're gonna do to me," he laughed uncomfortably, picking the puzzle back up again and fiddling with it.

Jade folded her arms across the table's surface and rested her chin on them. She breathed out in one long huff and watched him for a while, her eyes wandering.

"So where'd you come from?" Travis asked.

"'Bout four hours from here," Jade answered. "You?"

"Only about thirty minutes I guess. That Kensington guy picked me up from the courthouse."

"Well shit," Jade sat up a little straighter. "What'd you do?"

"I stole some shit, that's all." He caught her glance of disbelief. "We were starving, okay? I did what I had to. You'd have done the same thing if you were me. I bet you did something serious, what was it?"

Jade scowled. "If you make fun of me I'm going to break your nose too."

"We're all in here together, aren't we? Clearly someone thought we were bad seeds."

She sighed. "I got caught having sex." He cracked a smile at first, but she went on. "My girlfriend's father walked in and he went apeshit. I haven't seen her in over a week, it's like they wiped her off the face of the planet." His smile vanished. She chewed her lip, her knee bouncing under the table while she played with a dark strand of hair.

"I'm sorry." Travis dropped the puzzle and put a hand over hers. "People are fucking idiots. I know that probably doesn't make you feel better, but they are. The whole world is filled with shitty people, ignorant people. You know what I say? Fuck 'em. You'll find her again someday."

Jade rested her chin on her arms again, her nose and eyes turning slightly pink. She sniffled and looked up at him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"When we make it out of here," he said, "I promise I'll help you find her. I'm probably going to need your help too. I'll have to find my little brother. God knows where he'll be when all this is over with."

"You have a brother? What's he like?"

And so they passed the time talking about family for a while. Travis told her everything about Teddy, Jade talked about an older sister who moved away and lived in Switzerland where she'd decided to stay after one summer of backpacking in the Alps. They were nothing alike and every bit the same at the same time. Afterwards, Jade felt more at ease like she'd made a friend.

Her eye caught sight of something in the corner of the ceiling that she hadn't seen before. She got up from her seat with Travis close behind and went to look. At first she'd thought it was an insect, but on closer inspection, she realized it wasn't a bug—not in the literal sense. It was a scope with a camera and it had been watching them—and in all probability, listening—the entire time they'd been in the room.

Jade grabbed his arm and walked him to the far side of the room where she hoped their whispers wouldn't be heard. "Did they tell you they'd be watching you in here?"

"No…"

The door slid open to reveal Warren and Kristen back again. "Alright, time to go. Warren will take you back, Mr. Ford. Miss Stoddard, come with me."

The two of them had no idea what lay in store.

* * *

2010

She played Vivaldi with more grace and dignity than some of the most important pianists in the world, her touch delicate and adept on the piano keys the whole time. Her evaluation was going smoothly and the others in the room had been all too keen to observe Dr. Pembroke's success with the former Lucy Harris.

In the previous years, she'd been distracted by even the slightest sound or movement. The first had been by far the hardest, and one Simona would never forget—the girl had strangled an orderly near to death and gouged an eye out of its socket before she had been contained and that had been in just the first week. It was a slow process of bringing her back from the brink of insanity and a process that began by discovering Lucy anew.

Lucid moments proved that not only was she capable of pleasant conversation, but also that she was near-dauntingly intelligent. As if she were merely an untapped well of resources, Lucy could talk at great length about cumulus clouds and her young sister, but for sanity's sake, she'd completely walled off the truth in her mind; as far as Lucy Harris knew, she'd merely been sent to an institution that would allow her to get her life back on track. All had been fine until the day she asked when she'd be going home two years after her intake.

"This is your home," Simona told her, perhaps a little too coldly at the time.

"No it's not, I have a sister and parents who will come looking for me if you don't return me—"

That was when Simona produced the crime scene photos. They'd been through the thick of it before and she had no qualms about going back if they needed to, but Simona doubted there would be any necessity. "You killed them."

Simona saw the light leave her eyes as she touched the photograph of her mother's bloodied face, the wind leaving her sails until she was no more than deflated shell.

That night, Lucy made an attempt in vain to kill herself from the guilt, but days later, she seemed to hold steadfast to lucidity. The next phase of treatment began, which involved breaking her to some degree once more, but here they were at the end of it all on assessment day.

The doctors in the room applauded when she stood from the bench. She'd wandered into the room of her own accord in the first place (but not without a little guidance in the right direction).

"Hi, my name is Dr. Harvey. I'm new here. Do you mind if we speak for a moment?" Gwen asked as the others filed out of the room, and her mother with them. It was a ruse, of course. The girl had seen Dr. Harvey more than enough times in her stay, but if they had known each other at all, the younger of the two seemed not to acknowledge the fact.

"Of course," she nodded, with a courteous smile, taking a seat perched on the edge of the stiff, leather sofa.

"I'm so sorry, what's your name, dear? I didn't quite catch it."

"Clarice. Clarice Pembroke," she smiled.


End file.
